


Watch the Blood and The Crap Spray

by AWalkingParadox



Series: The Blood In My Veins [2]
Category: Hamilton - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Screw Howe, Werewolf Fights, poor aaron, random crap, there might be some blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 02:28:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12423198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AWalkingParadox/pseuds/AWalkingParadox
Summary: We get a peek at Aaron Burr’s life and the messiness with it.





	Watch the Blood and The Crap Spray

Life as a werewolf is not easy, especially when you get to see your leader killed before your very eyes. Of course, the day started out very ordinary. Aaron woke up, got dressed and went to school. Of course, everyday isn’t exactly normal. There was a new student today: Alexander Hamilton. Aaron didn’t know what to think. Hamilton seemed very.....unique. For starters, he seemed younger than the other students. He also loved picking fights with Thomas Jefferson, the the leader of the debate team. They’d argue on and on about politics and even little things like why Jefferson wears that hideously large magenta jacket.  
So in conclusion, this day wasn’t normal. Later on, it got stranger.  
Aaron was just sitting, reading a book and thinking over the day’s events when a filthy man covered in blood stormed in yelling for William Howe.  
What would he want from their clan leader?  
As if fate had heard, the crowd that had formed parted and William Howe, in his full glory appeared.  
“What do you want?” Howe drawled, not even looking at the stranger.  
“I want vengeance!” Was the snarled response. “You killed my wife! You turned me into this.” He said it with conviction, but last part was the tone of a man resigned to his fate.  
“Hmm? Oh you.” Howe stared at him, disdain coloring his voice. “You were just easy pickings. Nothing personal.” He said, waving a hand with flourish.  
The stranger growled. “You will die.” Aaron watched as the stranger’s nails elongated into claws, his teeth sharpening and eyes gleaming yellow.  
“You can try.” Howe said, shrugging, giving him a second of warning before he pounced.  
The stranger lunged and met him midway, and they they fell to the ground in a hurricane of claws and blood.  
Unconsciously, the clan members, including Aaron, had formed a circle around the two brawling canines, all stretching to get a glimpse of the fight.  
Howe had gained the upper hand, crouched on top of his opponent, ready to deliver the final blow.  
“No.” The stranger snarled, swiping at Howe’s face and sinking his claws into Howe’s side.  
Howe howled in pain and reeled back, a look of unmistakable anger on face. He bared his fangs. “For that, you will die painfully.” He jumped, catching the stranger at the shoulder and and sending them both tumbling on the ground. He slashed viscously at the stranger’s eyes, just barely missing.  
For a moment they stopped, crouched low to the ground. Howe had one his eyes gouged out and his left ear was torn. A deep cut at his side was bleeding freely, blood spilling into the grass below.  
The stranger did not look any better. He a deep cut on his chest, at least seven inches long. He was limping, possibly having broken a bone. Aaron watched his laboured breathing, and knew his had at least three fractured ribs. His body was a lattice of cuts and bruises. They all watched as he stood slowly, scanning the crowd and nodding, as if knowing he was going to die. He then spat at the ground and grinned, teeth stained with blood.  
Howe matched it and with a yell, attacked. They were once again on the ground, growls and snarls and snarls could be heard above the uncharacteristically silent crowd.  
Finally, in a strange turn of events, the stranger overpowered Howe, due to anger or adrenaline, Aaron didn’t know. The stranger lifted his claws into the air and swung it down. It made a loud squelching sound as blood spurted. Howe let out a choked scream as the stranger retracted his claws. He gasped weakly, blood gurgling. The stranger must have punctured a lung, Aaron mused.  
Finally, Howe breathed his last and the spark in his eyes turned glassy and blank.  
The stranger rose slowly, breathing hard, and looking at the crowd expectantly. He thinks we’re going to kill him, Aaron thought with a start.  
Aaron stepped forward. He was, after all, the second in command. “What is your name?” Aaron asked.  
The stranger looked surprised and it was a moment before he answered. “George. George Washington.”  
Aaron nodded. He then turned to the crowd. “Behold our new leader! George Washington!”

-•-

Only a week had passed since George had become leader, but a lot of things can happen in a week. Whereas Howe ruled with fear, George ruled with kindness. Of course, he was confused the first few days, which left Aaron the task of looking after a clan and briefing George with the rules, traditions and responsibilities of a leader.  
“For the last time, sir, we have to hunt in order to feed the clan.” Aaron explained. “Or else our people will starve.”  
George frowned. “Can’t we just go to the supermarket to buy?”  
“No sir, a werewolf must eat fresh meat at least once a week, so we hunt every Tuesday.”  
“I don’t like the idea of killing some innocent creature.” George said, looking sick.  
“I know sir, but it’s for the best.”  
“Alright.”

-•-

To say that Aaron was surprised was an understatement. He was in absolute state of shock when George walked in his class and introduced himself as their new teacher.  
He watched the man become slowly beloved by the class. George was like this fatherly general. Hamilton in particular was very affected.  
Aaron sympathised, knowing that Hamilton was an orphan. He probably latched on to the first fatherlike figure that entered his life. Aaron felt a twinge of protectiveness. Hamilton looked so young, at least a year or two younger than he was.  
Many days passed and everything returned to there normal routine, well, as normal as could be. It was strange that he was absent at least once a month, it was more strange that George did the same. Then Hamilton began to visit George’s office more often.  
One day, Hamilton had walked in the room, looking like the dead. But, Aaron thought, he did look different. More......handsome. Then in follows Jefferson, sporting a black eye and looking worse for the wear. This was when Jefferson began accompanying Hamilton on those visits to George’s office.  
Hamilton and Jefferson began acting with more civility, if not friends, then at least acquaintances.  
Aaron did wanted to be in the room where it happened, if only to satisfy his curiosity, but following his personal motto, he left it alone.  
But he draws the line when Jefferson and Hamilton began visiting Washington at the clan.

-•-

“Pardon me, are you Aaron Burr, sir?” Aaron turned, albeit slowly. Full moon was just yesterday and he was still recovering.  
“Depends, who’s asking?” His eyes widened in shock when none other than Hamilton stood in front of him, Jefferson a few feet away.  
“My name is Alexander Hamilton, I’m here to see Mr. Washington.” He said eagerly, not unlike a puppy. If it were not for the internal panicking Aaron was going through, he would have laughed.  
“Why would professor Washington be here?” He laughed nervously. “He’s probably at his home at Mount Vernon. It is the weekend.”  
“Quit the excuses, Burr.” Jefferson drawled, Southern accents palpable. “We know he’s here.”  
Looking back on this, Aaron would blame his stupidity on the full moon.  
“Er....no, maybe you should go see a mental hospital?” Aaron said, teasing, his heart racing.  
“C’mon Burr, we know he’s here. We know he’s a werewolf, you’re a werewolf, everyone there is a werewolf.”  
“Subtle, Hamilton. Real subtle.” Jefferson muttered, sarcasm oozing.  
Aaron froze. “Do you now. Where’d you hear that?”  
“Washington.” Hamilton answered simply.  
Aaron opened his mouth to answer when none other than George appeared. “What’s going on?” He asked, smiling, scanning the odd little group.  
“Well, sir, they asked to see you.” Aaron answered. “I was convincing them that they were crazy, until that is, you showed up.”  
“Ah.” George nodded. “No need for that. You see, they’re vampires.”  
Jefferson snorted.  
“Oh.” Now that Aaron did think about it, the signs were painfully obvious. The slight gleam in their eyes. The way they stayed in the shadows, and why they were wearing jackets even though it was extremely hot. Their slightly sharp incisors. “I see.”  
“Yep.” George answered cheerfully. “Come in.” He said, ushering the three of them into one of the structures in their camp, a wooden hut mostly used for visitors of other clans.  
“I’ll go get us some drinks.” George said, walking out of the room.  
It was very awkward. Aaron cleared his throat. “So, Jefferson, who turned you?”  
“Great conversation starter.” Jefferson answered, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know, some rogue vampire, most likely.” Aaron nodded, face flushing.  
He looked towards Hamilton, who in turn looked towards Jefferson. “Go ahead.” Jefferson said, though his face was slight apologetic.  
“Thomas bit me.” Hamilton said simply.  
Aaron’s eyebrows shot up. “Why?” Hamilton then launched into the full story, only stopping to breathe. Aaron watched in fascination. How could a person talk so much?  
“Mhm.” Thomas nodded every now and then. When Hamilton was finished, he stood, stretching his arms a bit. “Well, that was certainly—-Ah!” He hissed clutching his hand to his chest. Aaron stood quickly, closing the window that they had forgotten to close.  
Hamilton rushed to Thomas side, partly concerned, partly curious. “D’you need some bandages or anything?” Aaron asked.  
“No. It will heal soon.” Thomas waved a hand dismissively, though he made sure to sit down closer to the shadows.  
Hamilton soon followed suit. “What does it feel like?” He asked.  
“Like I’ve been burnt.” Jefferson answered, rolling his eyes.  
“You haven’t been burnt before?” Aaron said in surprise, looking at Hamilton.  
“No.” Was the response. “Thomas here made sure I didn’t even try to be.”  
“I had to, or else you would be dead by now.” Thomas replied.  
Hamilton rolled his eyes, poring. “How about you, Burr? How’d you get turned?”  
“I wasn’t.” He answered. “I was born this way.”  
“Oh.” Hamilton answered. “Cool!”  
“What’s it like being a werewolf?” Alex asked. Jefferson rolled his eyes.  
“Er....” Aaron struggled to answer. “You see......I can’t exactly describe it.”  
The rest of the afternoon went pretty much like this, with Alex asking question, Thomas sighing and sometimes asking questions of his own, and Aaron trying to answer them to the best of his capabilities. Aaron found that he actually enjoyed it. Talking to kids his age and being able to relate was almost....freeing. They settled into an easy atmosphere, talking till it was dark.  
George never came back with those drinks.  
Aaron would later find George reading a book in his office, giving him a sly look and asking how it went.

**Author's Note:**

> We still haven’t made up our mind on who will be shipped here


End file.
